A Spiritual Man

In my line of work, I've heard it many times. In discussing a deceased family member, the comment is offered:

 "He was a (very) spiritual man."

Though I never know for sure what this means in every situation, I think I know. Since I'm speculating, allow me the freedom of possibly being wrong. However, I wouldn't say this if I didn't know it to be true in more than a few situations.

What I think it means is that this person believes in God or someone like Him. They believe He exists, possibly that He is Creator, and maybe even that we should regard Him in some way. However, they have decided to come to God on their own terms, not His. They have decided to create a god more in tune with their own likings and to worship it instead.

By referring to someone in such generic terms as "a spiritual person", it usually means that more precise terminology such as "devout Christian" would not accurately describe them. One has to also assume that calling someone a "spiritual person" may also be a stretch, an effort to give someone credit for piety that they most likely did not have to a meaningful degree.

My wife is a quilter, a hobby and pastime that I have always encouraged in her, as I see it to be both creative and useful. My grandmother was a quilter, too, so my family heritage is awash in the quilter culture. My grandmother made two types of quilts. One was a more artistic, planned and patterned quilt. The other was the simply functional quilt in which scraps were sewn together with little thought to pattern and color scheme. In these quilts, the virtue was seen in the quilt's colorfulness. The brighter and more outlandish, the better.

The theology of these "spiritual" people seems to be like these hodgepodge quilts:  a mashed-together series of ideas and beliefs whose only connecting trait is that they appeal to this person. In a discussion of spiritual matters, this person might say, "Well, I believe...", and then insert some belief or another. If you were to press them to defend this belief, you would find them squirming on that classic shifting sand on which such homemade beliefs reside. Their belief system would most likely draw on notions or hearsay, passed down or gleaned from family or the misguided populace at large.

If God is the same yesterday, today and forever--and I believe He is--then this type of "spirituality" will most certainly not please Him. The historic record of the Judeo-Christian God shows Him to be generally intolerant of dissension and unaccepting of deviations from His revealed directions. I like this. I would rather worship a God who means what He says and stands by it.  When the "spiritually-minded" stand before the Good and Righteous Judge, believing in something that is only God-like and is based on whimsy will be no better than believing in nothing at all.

God is a loving and forgiving God, but this doesn't mean that everyone will benefit from His love or forgiveness. We do not deserve His love or forgiveness, yet He offers it to those who come to Him on His terms. He is God, after all, and who are we to dictate terms to Him.

Coming to God on your own terms usually means that you don't want to be subject to Him because you believe He is too harsh, too unloving. In the vacuum that is Biblical disbelief, any contrary belief looks at home. When you see God as only a God of love, not a God capable or willing to dish out judgement or punishment, then that perverse kind of love becomes all-important. Who cares about sin or forgiveness? All we need is love.

If you believe this--that God is only a God of love and He's willing to wink at our sinfulness--then you probably also see anyone that upholds a Biblically-based standard that calls people to turn from sin and seek God's forgiveness--as hateful and unloving. How calling our fellow man to repent and to address our Creator on His terms can be construed as hateful is beyond my understanding. Indifference is the hateful path. Choosing to allow someone to live in ignorance of facts that would impact their eternity is the exact opposite of being loving.

There's an old saying: "If you stand for nothing, you'll fall for anything." If your faith is a pick-and-choose patchwork quilt of disparate pieces, then that's not faith in the real God. Life is not cafeteria-style, where you can pick and choose what you want to believe and what you want to cast aside. If you think it is, then you are a victim of the ages-old heresy that faith itself matters, not the object of your faith.

Shifting sand is no place to build your house, spiritual person. Build on something solid.

The Failures of a Perfectionist

 I'm a perfectionist. Not an obsessive/compulsive one, but a perfectionist none the less.
Those of us that are perfectionists should know the pitfalls of being this way. We are, after all, surrounded by people who aren't concerned with perfection or even doing their best, and there's nothing we can do about it. However, the worst part about being a perfectionist is that I never do anything perfectly. I am plagued, tormented and haunted by things I've done imperfectly. Decisions I've made that were severely flawed, things I've made that show gross imperfection, and interactions with people that have gone horribly awry: these are the ghosts that swirl around me, trying to get my attention and trying to scare me with their noise.
Thankfully, I'm not afraid of ghosts. They are annoying though and they do succeed in distracting my focus away from where it should be.

Right now, I'm second-guessing a decision I made some 13 years ago. It was a career choice I made in a vacuum of alternatives, which made it seem right at the time. There was not much else to consider at the time, option-wise. Also, the job has done an adequate job of providing for my family for these 13 years, so I suppose it's not a total loss. However, the present has me wondering if this was a good decision for the long run.

I'm tending to believe it is not. I'm thinking it may be time to change course. Best case scenario is that my career of the last 13 years was a good choice at the time, yet I'm at the end of that path and find myself at a fork. Turn left and stay here. Turn right and move into uncharted territory. I can see further down the road to the left. I feel like I know where it's going, and that's what makes me want to turn right. The path to the right is wholly unknown, yet it draws me. I feel that I'm an explorer at heart, and this heart is telling me, "Turn right!".

This troubles me because I'm also looking at the glass as half-empty. I'm thinking about how much of a waste it was. I'm wondering why I didn't do something else 13 years ago--something I might enjoy and be challenged by thirteen or twenty or thirty years later.

I've also discovered that perfectionists have to be careful with their children. There is a tendency to be controlling and to try and mold your children's outcomes to resemble what your outcomes would have been. This is a difficult line to follow. You don't know when your being a helpful teacher or a micro-manager. When you wait for them to ask for help, are you being insensitive or uncaring? Who knows how many times I've erred by omission or co-mission on this one.

Its usually a good idea to temper your perfectionism with reality. Do your best. When your best falls short, know it was your best and move on. Give others the grace to do the same or to disregard perfection altogether.

Perfectionism is a frustrating existence. Yet I want to be right here where I am, aware of my shortcomings and failures. The people I worry about aren't the failures. They at least tried something that led to failure. The ones that trouble me the most are those who don't care about doing their best and who are comfortable in their failure, not seeing anything amiss in falling short so consistently. As a perfectionist, I know I'm not perfect, but I am confident that I do some things right some of the time.

I can live with that.

Thought That Counts

We've all heard the phrase, "It's the thought that counts." This sentiment usually accompanies a gift or action which may or may not have any real value, yet the consideration is supposed to carry the primary value.

I've tried to teach my children what this really means. I've taught them that arbitrarily giving gifts just to relieve an obligation or to perhaps win approval from the recipient is a selfish act, the end result being that we feel better for having given a gift. In this context, little thought is given to the recipient and little thought is given to the gift and its propriety.

In their younger years, one of my girls had a friend. We all remember one occurrence when this friend came over, bearing a gift for my daughter. After giving it to her, she said, "You can have this. I don't want it any more."

I also just read an article about Jessica Alba, bragging about teaching her 4-year-old daughter the benefits of giving to the less fortunate by donating her belongings when she's become tired of them or has outgrown them.

There is also a story I remember about the Bill and Hillary Clinton donating used clothing to either the Salvation Army or Goodwill. In this donation was three pair of used underwear that were valued at $2/pair for the purposes of itemizing the "gift" as a charitable contribution for their 1986 tax return.

"It's the though that counts."

There is nothing inherently noble in giving our cast-offs or giving a small portion out of our abundance. That gift has little value in itself, and if it has any value, that must be determined by someone else. Even when we donate used items to resellers, such as the Salvation Army or Goodwill, the item only has value when someone decides to purchase it from their store. We attribute fictitious value to our cast-offs, thinking ourselves generous and caring for gracing a lesser being with our no-longer-needed or -wanted things. Sure, someone may find this useful, however just because someone digs through a dumpster to find something to eat doesn't mean we've done them a favor by putting it there. When our gifts to others are handed down from a lofty place, it is more insulting and demeaning to the recipient than a gift should be. If we do give these things to others, it should most certainly be from a place of humility, thinking carefully of their feelings and their personhood.

Another lesson I've tried to communicate is that giving in a meaningful way is sacrificial. If I received a $25 gift card from certain friends, it would almost be insulting, as I know that they sacrificed little or nothing to give this amount. There are other friends though for whom a $25 gift would be a real sacrifice and would carry meaning far beyond the amount given.

I've also tried to communicate that gift giving requires thought, not in that you thought to give a gift, but that you thought about what you would give this person. Granted, some are hard to buy for and we often have little ideas about what would make a meaningful gift for them, but we should strive to see that our giving is as meaningful as it can be.

Some friends of mine gave me a pipe for my birthday once. It was purchased at a flea market, so it was used, and it wasn't a necessarily expensive brand, yet they knew I was a collector and they thought about my passions and desires when giving this gift. I enjoyed this gift far more than I would have enjoyed a $50 Target gift card.

Gift cards have become an obligation-filler. Unless it has purpose behind it, i.e., it's to a special store or it is focused on a particular need the recipient has, it is virtually meaningless and serves only to soothe our conscience.

There are other thoughtful ways to show our love for friends and family. Recently, some friends invited us over to their house to celebrate my birthday. This was a very meaningful gift. There weren't any actual gifts exchanged, but there was some yummy brisket and delectable sweets, not to mention that we were able to spend some time with some of our favorite people. Once again, much better than a $50 Target gift card.

So in our gift-giving and in our daily contact with friends and family, let us remember that thoughtfulness counts. Let others see that we think, and that when we do think, its not always about ourselves.

The Fabric of Time

Being a fan of some science fiction genre pieces, I have seen my share of time travel movies and television shows. They usually take different approaches to the topic, with a unique twist here or there.

There's the situation when you can go back and time and see yourself, so basically there are two of you, one in the present and another from the future. Then there's the situation when you go back in time and there's only one of you, but you have your knowledge from the future. Also, if you travel forward, you go to the future, but your knowledge only extends up to the point in time when you traveled forward.

There's always talk of upsetting the timeline and changing history. You don't want to see yourself or tell yourself, "Hey, you're fat in the future, so you may want to think of taking better care of us." Other theories consider how the future changes with every iteration; every time it is relived, a new outcome arises from the chaotic assemblage of circumstance and random choice.

There's also another plot line that addresses a more outlandish concept, that there are myriad timelines, the number being limited by the number of possible choices in any given circumstance. All of these exist as threads, woven into the tapestry of time. We typically only experience one of these "threads", so we have no real awareness of these multiple realities. This has been a common theme on numerous Star Trek and Stargate episodes in most of their different series (Probably also in other sci-fi series, but I'm most familiar with these).

In my opinion, the concept of time travel is great for science fiction, yet it is just that:  fiction. In our physical world, time is unidirectional and linear. It's like a burning fuse, the flame moving steadily in one direction, the fuse behind the flame spent. The fuse doesn't double back on itself or burn from both ends or anything weird like that.

The future doesn't yet exist, so you cannot go there. The past is spent and will never again exist in a time-and-space reality. Therefore, any concept of moving between present, past and future is pure fancy. Also, there are multiple choices at any given point in the present, but only one timeline exists, there being only room for one reality in it. In other words, I may have several choices about what I will eat for supper tonight, but come tomorrow morning, I will have made only one choice and only that choice will exist in reality.

The concept of multiple realities is a cool one, often pushed to ridiculous limits, made cooler because it allows each of us to imagine the possibility of ourselves living in other realities in entirely different circumstances. I've been there, speculating to foolish lengths about the "other me".

There's the Me that went to a different college to study engineering. I would end up married to someone else, as my wife in this reality met me at the college I went to in this reality which didn't have an engineering school.

There's also the Me that was more serious about music in his high school years. Frankly, I don't know what would have happened to this fellow, but I hope it would have lead to fame and fortune.

Then there's the Me that made different relationship choices in high school. This dude would probably be the most miserable of all, as the prospects available at that time wouldn't have led me down any path that would end well.

There are also outcomes and realities that I imagine arising from smaller, less significant decisions along the way. A different job here. Another choice there. A different church. More motivation and initiative, or perhaps less.

In these scenarios, we imagine ourselves most often as being happier, wealthier, more successful or with fewer flaws. We seldom consider that the other version of ourselves may be unhappier, poorer, a failure, or the biggest loser imaginable. That kind of speculation is not fun, so we avoid it.

Movies concerning time travel, specifically going backwards in time, usually allow the traveler the convenience of carrying his knowledge back with him. Also, the choices in that reality are fixed, i.e., if you don't upset the timeline with any new developments, things unfold exactly the same way every time. Change one outcome though, and the change cascades throughout time with often drastic results (the "Terminator" movies). 

In my opinion, the most unique concept of time travel found in the movies is from The Butterfly Effect, starring Ashton Kutcher. Every time he traveled back in time to correct one thing, small changes in decisions yielded oftentimes drastic outcomes years down the road. The outcomes were random and unpredictable and differed drastically in each timeline. In this scenario, nothing could be gained from traveling back in time. Returning to the future, you would find everything different, and no outcome could be predicted or assumed based on any action in the past.

All of this is academic, as time travel is not possible, however it makes for some interesting musing. Just don't become one of those desperate souls like Uncle Rico, so dissatisfied with the present that happiness can only be found in the past.

The Enemy Within

    For we know that the law is spiritual, but I am of the flesh, sold under sin. For I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate. Now if I do what I do not want, I agree with the law, that it is good. So now it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me. For I know that nothing good dwells in me, that is, in my flesh. For I have the desire to do what is right, but not the ability to carry it out. For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want, it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me.
    So I find it to be a law that when I want to do right, evil lies close at hand. For I delight in the law of God, in my inner being, but I see in my members another law waging war against the law of my mind and making me captive to the law of sin that dwells in my members. Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord! So then, I myself serve the law of God with my mind, but with my flesh I serve the law of sin.  (Romans 7:14-25 ESV)

There is a tendency amongst some evangelicals to blame negative outcomes, poor judgement or blatant or not-so-blatant sin on external forces, most often demonic "oppression". Less than ideal outcomes end up being the fault of a will-o'-the-wisp bent on frustrating our best efforts. At the risk of offending some of my well-intentioned brethren, I must say that I find it amusing that people who should know better would say this. Sure, I believe the Forces of Darkness are at work--the Scriptures are very plain about this. But I don't believe that these forces have the power to force their will on us, causing us to take courses we would otherwise not take. I believe they have the power to influence us and lure us with any temptation available, yet I remain convinced that the choice is always ours. We choose to sin. We choose to make bad decisions. We listen to those proverbial voices from each shoulder and decide for ourselves.

There is another verse found in Jeremiah 17:9 which reads, "The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?" (ESV). This more accurately explains where the true darkness is to be found: the human heart. Now this, the heart, is metaphorical in this sense and isn't the muscular organ responsible for pumping our blood. Instead, it refers more to the soul of a person:  the mind, will and emotions, or those intangible parts of us that have no physical form yet exist nonetheless.

It would indeed be convenient if we could blame our actions on external forces. However, drawing this conclusion requires that we disregard what is obvious to us all. The one common factor in all of our downfalls, mistakes and sins is us.

Even though I, too, often succumb to idiotic notions that my decisions can be reasonably blamed on someone or something else, I know what's really going on. There are times I reflect on a past action, marveling that the idiot that did that thing was me. Usually, it seems a foreign notion that I can fall to such levels of depravity. My shame swells when I see that I am not only capable of such bad stuff, but that I often choose this path against everything that I know and believe.

Things most often kept in check can sneak out at weak moments and show us just how deceitful and sick our heart really is. Weak moments: there is the flaw. We have weak moments, moments when our personal desires clash with what is right or good, and desire is the victor. We become weak when we begin to meditate on those things that are not conducive to right thinking. If I have a particular weakness that centers around lustful thoughts, then I need to become extra vigilant when the things that fuel these thoughts cross my path. If my guard is dropped in these moments, then that right jab will most likely connect with my glass jaw and down I go.

It might be considered unkind or unloving to say such things. After all, this is a frontal assault on self-esteem. How are we going to feel good about ourselves when we are confronted with the notion that our sinfulness is a buck that we cannot pass. I believe it is more harmful when we ignore reality and grasp for the vapors of our own self-righteousness. Dealing with the truth of this matter directly, even when the subject matter is unpleasant and unflattering, leaves us in a territory much closer to where we should be.

 

Why I Go to Church

I just read a post from a fellow xangan:  "Why I Don't Go to Church". (OK, so I just skimmed over it. I found the animated gifs very distracting. Sorry.). After reflecting, I wanted to offer an alternative view. It is my hope that my story may offer another perspective, a picture of what real faith looks like.

This fellow's story is a story I've heard many times: people who feel a need to explain why they aren't people of faith. I'm not absolutely sure why people feel the need to explain this. I figure that some have truly been searching, just in the wrong places, and they really hope to find something real in the future. Others are more mean-spirited, wanting to denigrate people of faith, painting them as idiots, doofuses, rubes, hicks, or generally unsophisticated wanderers, grasping after snake oil to bring healing and/or meaning to their dull lives. Yet others just don't seem willing to consider the existence of God. They live a totally concrete realm where there is no room for faith in the unseen or intangible.

Well, we're all religious. That's a fact. We place our faith in a plethora of things. Often it is God, or something like him; a deity bigger than ourselves with power and knowledge greater than ours. More often than not, the object of our faith is ourselves. We believe in our own abilities to direct our own destinies and in our own abilities to discern right from wrong, good from bad. There is also more unorthodox approaches to faith, which end up being a goulash made up of God-worship and self-worship, where no real devotion exists at all. In the midst of all these are those who place their faith in a system that is relativistic, where disparate belief systems have an equal position in reality and truth. However, I digress. This was not to be a treatise on religion or faith in general. It is a testimony on my faith and why active church membership and attendance is central to that faith.

I believe there is one God, and that He happens to be the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, as well as the Twelve Apostles, Paul and others who have followed them. I believe that He has existed into eternity past and is the Creator of all that exists. I believe that He is not only Creator, but is Sustainer as well. Our daily existence would not be possible without His intervention or His guiding hand.

I also believe that this God exists in perfection. He is perfectly holy. He is perfectly just. He is perfect in His love and in every other aspect of His character.

As He is perfectly Holy, he requires that His children be holy also (Lev. 11:44). Well, the initial problem is that we're not holy. We're born into sin. We continue in that sin until we change our course. It's this condition of being sinners from the beginning that separates us from God. He is holy. We are sinners. Until we deal with our sinfulness, we have no right to approach God's throne.

God's perfect attributes don't trample on one another. In other words, God, being perfect in love, won't be so loving that he overlooks our sinfulness and denies His holiness. Also, He wouldn't be only holy and deny His loving nature. The multiple facets of God's nature cannot be fathomed by humans who exist in a world of perfect imperfection. Nothing we know or see is absolutely perfect. It's all flawed, so we cannot understand a Being that isn't flawed and that exists in absolute perfection. Also, it's hard to grasp how God can be loving and allow evil in the world or how he can be loving and still punish people for their sin. Such contrasting characteristics seem irrational and illogical. Some skeptics use these notions to excuse their disbelief in this God; they cannot understand or believe that such a being is possible.

Well, God, being the loving God He is, made possible a way for us, His sinful, rebellious creation, to restore our fellowship with Him. He sent His son to earth, as a human, to live amongst us as our example, and ultimately to die unjustly for our sins. This paid the price for all who avail themselves of its benefit with their own personal faith. Faith, in this case, doesn't mean intellectual assent. It means a belief that is evidenced by a change of heart, a redirection of focus and a reversal of life direction. It means not just believing, but standing on what you believe.

Most everyone has heard this story. I heard it many years ago. I saw who I was, where I was in relation to God, and reached out to Him for deliverance. It's been said that once you see the truth, you cannot "unsee" it. I've found this to be my experience. Once God revealed this to me, it became real and tangible. My forgiveness was effective. It restored my relationship with my Creator and I began to see things that had been hidden before. I was, in reality, a new creation.

So why do I go to church? I go because I must. I am compelled to gather with those who have experienced this forgiveness. We, as a body, are drawn to worship God and to celebrate the redemptive work of Jesus. We are commanded as believers to gather in this way (Hebrews 10:24-25), however we would almost certainly gather even if the imperative didn't exist. It's instinctive for believers to want to be with one another, especially when we live in an environment that is becoming increasingly hostile toward denominations and faith communities that hold to non-relativistic absolutes such as the Bible.

That is why I go to church.

Many will snicker, sneer or scoff at all this, and that's OK with me. I don't feel compelled to convince others that I'm right and they're wrong. I will gladly tell my story to any who would want to hear it, yet if you fail to agree with me on matters of faith, when you discover that what I say is actually true, the consequences are yours to bear.

Faith actually isn't as nebulous as some might think. In the light of eternity, it is actually rather weighty.

 

300K

This morning, on the way to work, my little truck rolled over 300,000 miles.

I've passed the 300K milestone in only one other vehicle, our last Suburban, which cratered at 315K. My Nissan pickup, now at 300K, is showing no signs of slowing down yet. Sure, it has signs of its age, as do I, but it and I keep on going in spite of dings, dents, creaks and sags. 

It's a 1995 King Cab with a V-6. Prior to buying this one, I had always wanted a truck just like this one. I don't regret the purchase. The only thing better would have been if I had been able to buy it new. You see, I bought it used, with 94K already on it. It had been wrecked before, but had been repaired and looked and functioned as if it had never been injured.

I bought it from a Jordanian named Sonny in Arlington. He ran a tire shop/used car lot and was training to be a manager of a Chili's restaurant in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. I saw an ad in Truck Trader magazine and called him. Since the photos in Truck Trader were black-and-white, when I called I asked him what color it was. "Maroon," he said, rolling the 'r' with his strong Middle-Eastern accent. I believed it to be a good deal at the time, but never imagined that I'd put another 200K+ on it. Welcome surprises!

When I bought the aforementioned Suburban, it already had 140K on it. I've rolled several other vehicles over 200K, and I look forward to seeing my little Nissan pickup eclipse the Suburban and beat 315K. 

Dwelling in the Land of Pipe Smokers: Part IV

(Fourth and final post in a four-part series on one of my favorite hobbies: pipe smoking.)

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There are many other gadgets and consumables, too, that make the hobby enjoyable for tinkerers like myself. There are lighters. There are tampers. There are pipe cleaners. There are ash trays.

I’ve had lots of lighters, most of them disappointing. Most lighters are cheaply designed and don’t stand up to even light use over time. I’ve yet to find the perfect pipe lighter, but the quest goes on. At the present, the most reliable lighter I’ve ever owned was an inexpensive Imco pipe lighter. I have my sights on an Old Boy, the classic high-end pipe lighter, but haven’t had a disposable Franklin to drop on it yet. There are many knock-offs of the Old Boy. I purchased one, made by Prometheus. It was a purchase filled with regret. After only a month or two, it started leaking butane. The company said they would fix or replace it, but I’d have to pay $50 for the replacement. Lame, considering that it was practically new. I also bought a Zippo Multi-Purpose Lighter, which is a long butane lighter of notable quality that I bought for $10 at Target. That’s probably the best lighter money I’ve spent yet, since it was cheap and is still working.

Tampers are another thing. You have the classic Czech tool, which is perfectly functional but lacks aesthetic charm. My choice is a Brebbia pipe nail, which I’ve owned for a number of years already. I paid about $1 for it. It has a simplistic charm that I find appealing.

Pipe cleaners are not just for kindergarten arts and crafts class. They have a real and practical use, too, thus their name. For my money, there’s no better pipe cleaner than Dill’s. You can find these at some drug stores and an occasional grocery store in the high security cigarette area for $1-2 per package. They are all cotton, very absorbent and just the right size for a normal pipe stem. There is an art to passing a pipe cleaner through a bent pipe, which I’ve mastered for all the bents I own, and the Dill’s cleaner is stiff enough to make the passage without much ado.

My ash tray is a small black skillet that I purchased at Cracker Barrel, about 5” in diameter. I glued a cork knocker in the center and plastic feet on its bottom. It’s great to use because of its size and the handle, making it easy to move here and there when your hand is full of other gadgetry.
One of the things that continues to attract me to pipe smoking is how challenging it is to achieve the perfect smoking experience. Adjusting the variables here and there, packing the bowl just right, knowing when not to oversmoke a bowl, knowing when tobacco is too moist or not moist enough--all of these things contribute to how the tobacco burns and how you should puff. Experiencing the perfect smoke consistently is still just out of reach, but I hit it often enough that I keep trying, trying to pay attention to all the little details that contribute to a more perfect pipe experience. I hope that I never arrive. If I do, the journey will surely be at an end, and as it is, I do love the journey.

(Pictured: Czech tool, Imco pipe lighter, Brebbia pipe nail and the humble cork knocker)

Dwelling in the Land of Pipe Smokers: Part III

(Part Three in a four-part series on one of my favorite hobbies: pipe smoking.)

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As for tobaccos, satisfaction has been more elusive. There are several blends I have grown fond of over the years, yet it is much more difficult for me to find satisfaction in tobaccos than it is for pipes. I'm relatively satisfied with my pipe collection as it is. I add one to it every now and then, often to commemorate a special occasion. My wife bought me a pipe of my choosing for Christmas last year in Grapevine. I just bought my most recent pipe at a fabulous pipe shop in Mill Valley, CA while we were on vacation. If I never bought another pipe, I would be quite happy with what I have. Yet tobacco is a consumable. It disappears over time and has to be replaced.
The plethora of choices of different tobaccos is overwhelming. And considering that you might spend $15-20 for a 50g tin of quality tobacco, you don't necessarily want to be buying something you won't like after one or two bowls. Yet experimentation is the only way to discover a future favorite.
One of the first things you discover is the complexity of pipe tobacco. The first level of appreciation of a tobacco is how it is in the pouch or tin. How it smells, how it looks. Then there’s how it performs in the bowl. How it burns, how it tastes, how it smells as it’s burning. The aroma a tobacco creates as it’s burning is called its “room note”.
 Every fact about pipes, tobacco and pipe smoking has its believers and skeptics. For example, I posted a response to a thread on alt.smokers.pipes about moisturizing bulk tobaccos. I mentioned that I had my bulk tobaccos stored in bail-lid jars, the kind with the rubber gasket to make it air tight. I also mentioned that I keep the tobacco at optimal moisture by putting a slice of apple in the jar with the tobacco. The moisture from the apple moisturizes the tobacco over time, and the apple eventually ends up looking like a leathery piece of mummy skin. Another fellow responded to my post, stating that this would make mold grow on the tobacco. I could have responded with a treatise on the biology of molds and spores and how they are generally unrelated to apple slices. I could have also brought real evidence into play, mentioning that this had been my preferred method of tobacco storage for years and that I had never seen the first sign of mold. Instead, I just let it drop.
Taking this disparity of opinion into account, there are many different "genres" of pipe tobacco, and many differing opinions as to what is good, what is bad, and what is a little of both. Some love English blends--the stronger the Latakia the better. Some exclusively smoke aromatics--the sweeter the blend, the sweeter the smoke. Some would sooner smoke sawdust than the bulk blends from brick-and-mortar tobacco shops. Others swear by these same blends, knowing no other tobacco than that which comes from a big glass jar or a Ziploc baggie.
One of the most peculiar things about pipe smoking is how I, as the smoker, can’t discern the room note whilst I am smoking. I could smell tobaccos that others might be smoking, assuming I wasn’t smoking the same thing, but I couldn’t smell my own tobacco as it burns. Strange. Another peculiarity is how tobaccos taste. They rarely taste like they smell. For me, this is fine. I just have to enjoy the tobacco on two different, unrelated levels.
(Pictured:  My most recent pipe acquisition, a Stanwell Nordic #254; also below, some of the tinned tobaccos I'd recommend--Blue Note, MacBarens' Vanilla Cream, and G. L. Pease's Haddo's Delight and Piccadilly [the only English blend I've ever liked]. My source for most of the tinned tobaccos I've smoked is cupojoes.com. I also bought my Peterson Aran 80S there.)


(To be continued.)

Dwelling in the Land of Pipe Smokers: Part II

(Part Two in a four-part series on one of my favorite hobbies: pipe smoking.)

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A quantum leap in my education occurred when I stumbled upon alt.smokers.pipes, a pipe smoker's group and chat room. The chat room offered real-time fellowship with pipe smokers and connections with fellows literally across the globe who revere the briar and the sacred weed. I learned that there are indeed many more pipe smokers out there--people dedicated to keeping the art of pipes and everything pipe-centric alive. Many of these fellows were PhDs, whilst I was just beginning work on my Bachelor’s degree in Pipery. However, it was a friendly place, full of camaraderie, and upon arriving, I knew I belonged.
Pipe smoking, I found, was relaxing. It reminded me of fishing. I realize that is not a logical link, but for me the similarities lie in that while I am either fishing or smoking a pipe, I am thinking of little else. My mind disengages from the outside world and all that exists at the time is within the circle including me, my pipe and my pipe gadgets. For fishing, the circle is a little bigger, as it has to include the lure/bait and the 30-or-so feet of monofilament between us both.
I began buying new pipes, new tobaccos and the gadgetry of pipe smoking. I began educating myself on the things I needed to know to avoid tongue bite, the plague of all new pipe smokers and the one thing that turns most novices against the hobby. I began to learn the differences in tobaccos and blends, finding some I liked and some I didn't like so much.
Eventually, I built myself a pipe cabinet, based on my own original design. It remains one of  the woodworking projects of which I'm most proud. My pipe collection has grown over the years, now consisting of 40-or-so different pipes. Some are in my regular rotation, some slip in on rare occasions, and others I never smoke yet don't want to get rid of. I bought some new and some used, some online and others from brick-and-mortar locales. I have my favorites, for sure. Some are sentimental favorites. Others smoke well. Yet others I like because of their looks. Many of my favorites exist in two or more of these categories.
Pipes have an interesting history, reaching back hundreds of years, yet they still have a modern appeal for many, myself included. What can I say? I love pipes!
(Pictured: Savinelli #611 Sandblast; another from my collection)
(To be continued.)

Dwelling in the Land of Pipe Smokers: Part I

(This is the first part in a four-part series on one of my favorite hobbies: pipe smoking. Enjoy.)

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The year was 2002, if memory serves, and I was on the cusp of a journey to a wonderful land. It is a land sparsely populated with wise, thoughtful people, a group whose number I gladly joined and among whom I've dwelt ever since. It is the Land of Pipe Smokers.
My father and I had taken my grandmother on a field trip to her home. She was living in an "assisted living center" at the time, and we thought a trip to the old home place would be just what the doctor prescribed. The validity of our observations I will not discuss, except to reference the old saying: "You can never go home."
As she was in another room with my dad, going through closets and drawers, searching for happier days, I was rummaging through a dresser drawer full of things long forgotten. In that drawer, I found a pipe that had belonged to my grandfather. He had been a pipe smoker in his earlier days; I remember cans of Sir Walter Raleigh sitting around their house. I pocketed the pipe with little else planned except to take possession of a missing part of my past.
The pipe sat around for a number of weeks. I noticed a faint voice occasionally calling to me from the direction of my grandpa's old pipe. I didn't understand the language of pipes then, but intuition told me it wanted to be smoked. Not knowing what else to do, I went to Walgreen's and purchased a pouch of Captain Black.
My initial pipe experience was like many initial experiences that later prove to be enjoyable: it was fraught with mistakes and unpleasantness, rooted in ignorance. Undaunted, I set out to educate myself on the wisdom of pipes and pipe smoking.
(Pictured: Peterson Aran 80S, Shape: Bent Rhodesian; one of my collection)
To be continued...

A Shaving Pilgrimage

Being a male in these times, one has to be familiar with the act of shaving. The vogueness of beards comes and goes in various forms, but shaving has become an essential part of manhood, like it or not. It is a huge industry, with companies trying to separate men from their hard-earned dollars by offering the latest and greatest in shaving implements, usually overpriced multi-bladed razors promising to shave closer and closer and closer yet.

There have been some advances in shaving that have improved the lot of those cursed with unwanted facial hair. The modern safety razor is one. The disposable razor is the most prominent member in that class, but disposability doesn't add anything to the usefulness or benefit of the modern razor. There are still sharp razors out there, ready to do a good job for those who aren't quickly taken in by the latest shaving gimmick or innovation.

When I was a junior in college, I moved into an on-campus apartment with my friend, John. In a local store, I saw and was mesmerized by an Old Spice shaving mug/brush set. To that point in my lifetime, shaving creams had ruled and the mug/brush was an archaic throwback, yet I was taken in completely. There were benefits, I learned, to shaving with a mug and brush. You can make the lather hot with hot water, and that makes for a more pleasant, smoother shave. So I bought the mug and began my journey of shaving with a mug and brush.

Much to my dismay, the Old Spice mug and brush didn't last. The mug broke and was replaced by a coffee cup. The brush eventually gave out, too, and was replaced over and over again through the years. I now have a coffee cup I've been using for quite some time. The brushes, while not common, are not hard to find. Online, the array is astonishing, and a simple version can be found at virtually any Walgreen's or CVS. I haven't purchased a can of shaving cream for nearly 30 years. I take a bar of soap, usually one of the glycerine types with a pleasant aroma, carve it down to fit in my mug, and that works just fine. I like the way the foam rinses out of my razor, not clogging it up like shaving creams tend to do. I like the feeling of the warm suds, as opposed to the coldness of a can of shaving cream. On the whole, I find it's a much more pleasant experience. I will most likely never go back to shaving creams. As long as a boar- or badger-bristle brush is available, I'll have my mug or a version of it at the ready.

Razors have changed much more than the foamy side of the equation. Going from the straight-edge razor to the ever-increasing array of blades mounted in today's razors seems a quantum leap of sorts, yet the practical improvements have been much more subtle. To be able to shave without cutting oneself to ribbons is a plus, but this has been possible for many years. In my judgement, little has improved in razor technology since the Gillette Good News, one of the first twin-bladed disposable razors, came on the market in 1976. The Good News arguably remains one of the best razors on the market and has changed very little since it's advent. Practically every disposable razor out there will trace its roots to the Good News.

So, if you shave (your face) regularly, think of changing up your game. Get a brush and see how you like it. You just may find yourself smitten.

Foolishness?

There's a verse in I Corinthians (1:18, to be exact) that reads, "For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God." 

This is full of meaning--practical meaning--and truth. We that not only consider ourselves believers but have allowed the gospel to fill and shape our lives understand what it means. Yet the concept of the cross, of its sacrifice and of the power of that sacrifice and of the resurrection, sound like a silly tale to many people. The notion of such a thing is strange to some people because they don't acknowledge the need for such an event. To believers, it's not silly. To believers, the crucifixion and the resurrection are God's greatest work, and, according to scriptures, it's something that He planned from the beginning of time.

Reflecting on this fills me with an awe and wonder that I cannot describe. God's power, focused on one moment in time, accomplished a feat that could be accomplished in no other way. It's magnitude is not lost on me. This event will continue to cascade throughout time and eternity and will never be eclipsed, never overshadowed, by any other thing. There is nothing else that will ever command the awe and wonder that the cross commands, and those who fail to bow to its purpose will spend eternity regretting that decision.

Phillips, Craig and Dean recorded a song, "Crucified with Christ", that codifies this feeling for myself and many others. It testifies to the awe-inspiring work found in the cross and the desire it creates in believers to sacrifice our own lives daily, not on a Roman cross, but in relinquishing our will to see His will done.

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 As I look back on what I thought was living
I'm amazed at the price I chose to pay
And to think I ignored what really mattered
'Cause I thought the sacrifice would be too great
But when I finally reached the point of giving in
I found the cross was calling even then
And even though it took dying to survive
I've never felt so much alive.

For I am crucified with Christ and yet I live
Not I but Christ that lives within me
His Cross will never ask for more than I can give
For its not my strength but His
There's no greater sacrifice
For I am crucified with Christ

and yet I live

As I hear the Savior call for daily dying
I will bow beneath the weight of Calvary
Let my hands surrender to His piercing purpose
That holds me to the cross yet sets me free
I will glory in the power of the cross
The things I thought were gain I count as loss
And with His suffering I identify
And by His resurrection power I am alive

And I will offer all I have
So that His cross is not in vain
For I found to live is Christ
And to die is truly gain

© 1995 by Randy Phillips, Denise Phillips, Dave Clark and Don Koch. From the Phillips, Craig and Dean album, "Trust".